by Dana Feldman
“So, the first floor will consist of the offices for the volunteers, and the kitchen is down here, and of course, there’s a main TV room where people can watch movies and just hang out. And when the patio is finished, people can have their meals inside or out by the water,” I explain, pointing at the various areas as we walk through.
“It’s really great. And I’d, of course, like to be a regular fixture around these parts so consider me an official volunteer,” he says, smiling widely. I couldn’t imagine being here without him by my side.
I smile back at him, knowing that Chris and I might finally have a chance now. Though I’ve made it clear that I’m not ready for anything just quite yet, he’s also made it known that he’ll be right here when I am. Oh, if only I could go back in time and do things differently. Then again, I know that if I were able to do that, we wouldn’t be standing here now. I needed to experience the things that I did so that I can truly understand the people that will hopefully know to come here for safety.
“So just let me know what I can do to help out. I’m ready to get started,” he says.
“Great, I’m very glad to hear it. And Evelyn and Bob have also decided to be volunteers so I think it’ll be a good place. Let me show you upstairs,” I say, and lead the way to the second floor. “So, we have four to a room, and there are enough beds for forty-eight people to stay here at a time. And did I tell you that Bob is handling the security system and will even make sure that there are two guards at all times?”
“No, that’s great. I think that will really help people to feel safe,” he says, understanding the full gravity of the situation now, better than most.
“Exactly. And that’s what they’ll need,” I agree, hoping that this place will serve as a new start for many. I wonder what my life would’ve been like had there been a place like this for me. I remind myself that things turned out exactly as they were meant to. I survived hell but in the end, it was worth it.
As we head back down the stairs, a woman with a baby in her arms walks in. She’s young, maybe early twenties. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head with wisps falling down over her face. It looks like she’s trying to hide the marks on her face, but they’re completely visible, even from here, several feet away. Her clothes look dirty, like she’s been sleeping outside.
“Hi, um, I wasn’t sure if you were open,” she says almost in a whisper, her voice low and scared. Her baby wriggles in her arms and begins to cry.
Evelyn, Bob and Chris walk back towards the kitchen to give us some privacy for a few moments. I look at her and see myself a few years ago. I thankfully never had a child with Gabe but I could have, and then I’d be in the same position as the young woman standing before me.
“Sure, yes, of course. Come in,” I say, and walk up to her. I put my hand on her back and can feel her trembling. As I get closer I can see the black eye and the bruise under her chin now much more clearly. Her baby continues to cry and I watch as she cradles him gently, trying to get him to fall back to sleep in her bruised and battered arms. I can make out what I think are teeth marks on her forearm.
“What’s your name?” I ask, looking into her frightened blue eyes. Mascara is smeared down her face and her eyes and nose are red from crying.
“Sarah. And this is Tyler. He’s just eight weeks old.” I look at her young son as he suckles on her finger. Light brown wisps of hair are just starting to sprout from his head. He’s young enough that I know that he won’t remember what his early days were like. She left in time to save him from what would’ve been a horrendous life.
“I’m Ella,” I say. I don’t ask too many questions at first. I just let her know that she and her baby are safe here. “I’ll bet he’s hungry,” I say, listening to her baby’s cries.
I lead her back towards the kitchen area. She sits down to breastfeed and I hand her a blanket for privacy. Bob is also warming a bottle for her, testing that the temperature is just so, on his wrist. I can just see him as a young dad with Ashley.
“I’ll bet you’re hungry, as well,” I say, motioning to Bob. He’s already grabbing items from the refrigerator and pre-heating the oven.
She nods her head. I don’t take my eyes off her, as she looks down, too ashamed to look me in the eyes. After a few moments she looks up at me and she doesn’t need to say a word. I already know what she’s feeling.
“I’m going to make a turkey casserole and Caesar salad,” Bob says. I watch as Sarah’s face brightens. She puts her hand down on Hank’s head as he sits just at her feet.
“How did you know to come here?” I ask, gently touching Tyler’s head. His big blue eyes peer up at me as he suckles her breast for more food. I grab the bottle from Bob and hand it to her. Tyler is still hungry. She looks at me gratefully as his tiny lips grab for the bottle.
“I was walking by and, well, I just saw the sign and I thought that maybe I’d check it out.”
“I’m glad you did. Where have you been living?”
“With my boyfriend in Santa Monica. He’s not a bad guy,” she says, starting to defend him. But she stops herself. She watches as her baby takes the bottle with vigor. I see the look of pure love on her face for her child.
“When is the last time Tyler ate?” I ask, and watch as her face pinches with guilt.
“Yesterday,” she admits. “I’m not a bad mom. I just didn’t know where to go. I left Tyler’s dad last night. I don’t want my son to see this. I want to do right by him. I want a better life for him.”
“I know you do,” I say.
“So we just left with nothing but the clothes on our backs. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Did he do this?” I ask, taking her chin in my hand. She nods her head.
“But he said he’d never do it again.” We don’t say anything. We just watch as Tyler inhales his bottle within minutes. “He also said that the last time. And the time before that,” she says, a tear rolling down her cheek. I put my hand on her arm, a way of telling her that it’s going to be ok now. Her entire body shakes as she tells me how much she wanted to believe him.
“I know how that conversation goes,” I say. She looks at me astonished. “Yep,” I add, nodding my head, letting her know that she, too, can get out of that relationship and have a new beginning. “You came to the right place. You’re safe now.”
She looks at me with tears in her eyes, a smile across her face, renewed hope. In the blink of an eye I can see it: she wants to believe me. There’s just a glimmer of it in her eyes. I recognize the look. She’s trying to decipher if this is real or if it’s too good to be true. And then I see the flicker as she realizes that her life is about to change.
As happy as I am that she’s here, I also know that there are so many more just like her that are still out there believing that this is their fate; that life has dealt them a bad hand. My hope is that they, too, find their way here so that I can prove to them that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I always thought I was too small to make a difference but it turns out that I wasn’t.
After everything that I went through, I now understand why I was lucky enough to get away. Perhaps it wasn’t luck as much as fate. I have a purpose, this I know for certain.
I have a story to tell and a lifetime of experiences that will help me to help others that are now going through what I went through then. I searched for a reason for so long and now it’s finally dawned on me: I am exactly where I’m meant to be.
I knew it was a long shot, this dream of escape.
I fantasized about it for years.
I knew I’d likely never get away from him,
but I had to try. And I almost made it.
I came so close to being free.
As always, he was one step ahead of me.
It’s so cold and dark down here
in my final resting place.
-Amelia
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